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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 






IN VERSE 

PROPORTION 

By 

Laura Bell 




PRESS OF 

J. B. UPPINCOTT COMPANY 

PHILADELPHIA 



1893 



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Copyright, 1893, 

BY 

Laura Bell. 



Dedicated 

TO HIM OR HER OF KINDRED TASTE 
WHO HAS A LITTLE TIME TO WASTE. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Lost and Found 7 

A Modern Priscilla 12 

The Sweetest Name 15 

Good-by ! 16 

An Old Saying 17 

Motherless 20 

An Advanced Darwinian Theory 23 

A Small Boy's Plaint 30 

An American's Soliloquy 32 

The Fisherman 34 

An Open Letter 36 

Song— Greeting 38 

5 



Madrigal — Spring Song 39 

An Enigma 41 

Sonnet — Farewell to Constantinople .... 42 

A Parting 44 



LOST AND FOUND 

LOST 

Missing — a tall and manly form 

Which came and went awhile, 
Since swept from sight by life's wild storm 

I scarce can force a smile. 

Missing — a pair of dark gray eyes 
Which shone with light of love ; 

Without them, gray are grown the skies 
Which darkly lower above. 

Missing — a strong yet tender arm, 
A hand-clasp, not oft won, 

7 



A loyal friend, to whom great harm 
By love of me was done. 

Missing — the sound of a full, rich voice 
Which rang in love's clear tone ; 

The owner's gone, but do I rejoice 
That I am left alone? 

Missing — the sound, the touch, the sight, 
Of him who was faithful ever, 

Though quick rebuke, rebuff, and slight 
Were heaped on him forever. 

Now, valued at their own true worth, 
That love and friendship spurned, 

Oh, if he still remain on earth 
That love shall be returned ! 



Reward — a sad and contrite heart, 

A hand long sought in vain, 
O'erwhelming love, which naught can part 

From master-love again ! 

FOUND 
Found — the sweetest, fairest thing on earth, 

Half human, half divine, 
And all my grief is changed to mirth 

To think this treasure's mine. 

A lithe young form, petite and round, 

Now flits before my eyes ; 
'Twas lost so long, but now 'tis found, 

And I possess this prize. 

A pair of melting, hazel eyes 
O'erflow with love and tears, 

9 



Creating such a glad surprise 
That I forget past fears 

And seize in mine the tiny hand 

Which holds a heart within, 
And since that heart with love is manned, 

I, man-like, venture in. 

L'ENVOI 

HE 

A fool, eh ? — I know it ; 

But who isn't a fool 
Who thinks to turn poet 

Without metre or rule, 
Or sense, too, for that matter, 

When the theme is a woman ? 

Yet we all are but human, 



And when women will flatter, 
What chance have we then, 
Alas ! we poor men ! 

SHE 

I wonder if I was a goose ; 

I think not, though, — not quite. 
Of course, my rhymes were but a ruse 

But then, all turned out right. 
His friends will say / threw the noose, 

And fished for him to bite, 
But when men will be so obtuse, 

I think girls might — yes — might 



A MODERN PRISCILLA 

My dearest Priscilla : — 

The charming distiller 
Of cider on tap, 
I wish to acquaint you, 
You dear little saint, you, 
Of quite a mishap 

Which chanced to affect me, — 
I'm sure you suspect me 

And guess what it is, — 
For no one can wonder 
That hearts beat like thunder 

At sight of your phiz ! 



What causes my sighs, dear? 
Your beautiful eyes, dear, 

Alluring me on 
To whisper I love you, 
You dear little dove, you, 

In clinging gray gown ! 

Your charming expression 
Brings forth this confession 

Of love at first sight ; 
I pray you believe me, 
And won't you receive me 

And pity my plight? 

Oh, give me some hope, dear, 
And let us elope, dear, 
And flee many Miles. 



I'll leave you? oh, never! 
I'll love you forever 
And bask in your smiles. 



THE SWEETEST NAME 

The sweetest name in all the land 

Is one I love to say, — 
'Tis yours, of course, you understand, 

But yet, I hope some day 
You'll change it for another, love, 

Which sweeter far will be, 
For by that change you'll surely prove 

That you belong to me. 



GOOD-BY ! 

I dare not say it as I would, 
For something bids me nay ; 

I must not say it as I could, — 
For strength alone I pray 

To hear the parting sure to come 
Whenever friends may meet, 

A parting which will find me dumb, 
And make my heart scarce beat. 

I cannot say it as I should, 

However hard I try, 
But trust I may be understood, 

Howe'er I say good-by ! 

16 



AN OLD SAYING 

lago. I wear my heart upon my sleeve for daws to 
peck at. — Othello, Act L, Scene I. 

(An adapted version of an old saying, being suitable reading for 
St: Valentine's Day.) 

To 



In days of yore 

The lover swore 
To love his lady ever, 

And hung his heart 

Pierced through with dart 
Where it would show forever. 



Upon the sleeve 

Without her leave, 
For vicious daws to peck, 

The luckless heart 

In church or mart 
His lady's sleeve would deck. 

Now obsolete 

This custom sweet, 
The reason why is clear, 

For man perceives 

That ladies' sleeves 
Can quickly disappear. 

And lost to sight, 
In bag shut tight, 
The heart could beat no more ! 

18 



Yet woman's game 
Of hearts is same 
As 'twas in days of yore, 
And shall be evermore ! 



*y 



MOTHERLESS 

Never until a mother's care 

And tender love are lost, 
Can child of hers the sad thought bear 

Of what that loss will cost. 

And yet, we all at some dread time 

Must undergo this trial ; — 
Then seems each passing thought a crime, 

And poor is self-denial. 

When Death, relentless king, draws near 
And sways his shadowy wand, 



We must relinquish those held dear 
And loose an earthly bond. 

How hard it is to snap that cord 
None knoweth, till the grief 

Of giving up one loved, adored, 
Surpasseth all belief! 

A mother dies on Christmas morn, 
In sleep her soul takes flight, 

To heavenly glories she is born, 
And wakes to endless light. 

That mother's place no one can fill, 
The void made by her loss 

Is one that does, and ever will, 
O'erwhelm one with its force. 



* * * * $ * 

What season seems most fit for death? 

A voice is heard to say : 
' 'To die as with the year's last breath, 

To wake to glorious day !" 



AN ADVANCED DARWINIAN THEORY 

(Written for the Locust Club) 
Should it ever be your fate, 
As it has been mine of late, 

To listen to a series of discourses 
On the subject evolution, 
It will cause a revolution 

Of fundamental principles and forces. 

If of science you're a lover, 
You will quickly then discover 

A cell is what for life is most desired, 
And some protoplasmic mass 
Does of course all else surpass 

In furnishing the pabulum required. 
23 



You no longer can set store 

By your wealth of hard-earned lore, 

Which teaches you in manner antiquated, 
But new views the old replace, 
And you find an ape's sweet face 

To yours, alas ! is very near related. 

Since the prehistoric ages, — 

And man has progressed some stages, — 
' Tis fair to think he still can make advances ; 

And if only we can prove 

He continues on the move 
Our pleasure in existence it enhances. 

Now, what testimony great 
Will be needed to inflate 
One's faith in such a strange hallucination 
24 



As descent from ape to man? 
Yet a man a ''locust" can 
Become by long and steady application. 

So I hope you will agree, 

For I'm sure 'tis plain to me, 
A Locust is a higher form of being ; 

And, as specimens of these 

Are here seated at their ease, 
My logic is as clear as is your seeing. 

As you glance now here, now there, 

At each member in his chair, 
You'll fain observe a higher mental status 

Than's depicted on the features 

Of those other mortal creatures 
Who' re not endowed with the divine afflatus. 
25 



Some might say 'tis retrogression 

In the stages of succession 
For man to spring from mammal to cicada ; 

But I'm sure you will maintain 

That the latter have more brain 
Than found in skull of genus quadrumana. 

They are governed, too, by laws, 
Which, like others, have some flaws, 

Administered by good and wise dictators ; 
If their talents are confusing, 
The results though are amusing 

In programmes filled by amateur creators. 

Though they live in atmosphere 

Made so rarefied and clear 

By culture and aesthetics close united, 
26 



Yet this diet's too ambitious, 
And, alas ! 'tis not nutritious, 
For wants of flesh and blood must be re- 
quited. 

So, 'tis surely within reason 

They should eat one meal each season 
To keep them from becoming too ethereal ; 

'Tis to-day, then, that they meet 

To enjoy their Jersey treat, 
And thus prevent an ending quite funereal. 

This development to you 
Is comparatively new, 
The race has had but eight years' brief exist- 
ence ; 



By additions well selected, 
And the species thus perfected, 
'Twill certainly progress through sheer persist- 
ence. 

If these views are well received, 

It will firmly be believed 
That man has reached his eighth stage of pro- 
gression ; 

Yet reluctantly we say 

That a higher stage one day 
Again may greatly alter his expression ! 

Let me tell you, in conclusion, 
That there must be no confusion 
Between this branch of Locusts and another, 



Which in ages far remote 
Did in Egypt then denote 
A plague of more destruction than all other. 

They were known to be audacious 

And exceedingly voracious, 
Such qualities their namesakes don't inherit. 

And now, I humbly beg 

You'll not call me a plague 
For boring you with verses without merit. 



29 



A SMALL BOY'S PLAINT 

I've written letters by the score, 
And yet each damsel wishes more. 
Now, why it is that / should be 
The victim of their coquetry 
I really, truly, cannot see, 
For I am blind as blind can be. 

They're not content with one short verse 
Which tells of love in terms most terse, 
But all make use of maiden's art 
To break my oft besieged heart, — 
To wound me with a piercing dart, 
And laugh, perchance, if then I start. 
30 



And as a guerdon for this act — 

I do assure you 'tis a fact — 

I'm forced to write to each fair maid ; 

Not to reproach her nor upbraid, 

But just to say I feel repaid 

For treatment such from her, sweet maid ! 

My sorrows are to ladies joy, — 

With looks and smiles and kisses coy, 

They treat me like a little boy 

And make of me a lovely toy. 

I'm sure you'll guess, unless you're stupid, 

This persecuted boy is Cupid ! 



AN AMERICAN'S SOLILOQUY 

When climbing hills or threading dales, 
When drinking draughts the gods have drunk, 

When morning breaks, or evening pales, 
Behold, the omnipresent trunk ! 

When rapt in meditation sweet 

On bones of virgin or of monk, 
When list'ning winds the tale repeat, 

Behold, the omnipresent trunk ! 

When idly sailing o'er calm lakes 
In boats as odd as Chinese junk, 

32 



4 ' Facchino' ' desolation makes 
And seeks the omnipresent trunk ! 

When crossed the Pass, near foaming stream 
Where ages' snows have frozen, sunk, 

And reached the inn where warmth doth teem, 
Behold, the omnipresent trunk ! 

When facing homeward on the seas, 
Recov'ring from linguistic shocks, 

When minus Baedeker and fees 
And ev'rything save travelling-box, 

Regard with tears that well-worn friend, 
With pathos note its lacking lock, 

Dejected strap flaps out an end, 

And breathe "adieu" when reaching dock. 



THE FISHERMAN 

There was an old doctor named Bundy 
Who fished ev'ry day save on Sunday ; 
When he caught a small trout 
Then he gave a great shout, 
This clever old chappie named Bundy. 

He sat on a rock on a Monday 
And stayed there until the next Sunday, 
Though he went without dinner 
Yet he did not grow thinner, 
This jolly old sinner named Bundy. 

34 



Andromache-like, he went c ' rocking' ' 
In costume — well — equally shocking ; 

His wide knickerbockers 

Amusing all mockers, 
Made ample display of his — stocking ! 

And yet, he's of aspect benign, 
Befitting an able divine 

Who aims at high goals 

And angles for souls 
As well as for fish on his line. 



AN OPEN LETTER 

Only once in four years can 

A maiden tell her secret love, 
Tell it openly to man, 

Tearing wide the veil above. 

The time has come, but, oh, my heart, 

Why shrink' st thou from the pleasant task? 

Dost fear the truth, with winged dart, 
Would cause a fracas, may I ask ? 

Ah, no ! too well I know the world, 
And men, alas ! are oft obtuse ; 
36 



My heart might at his feet be hurled 

And gain as greeting, — ''What the deuce !' 

And yet, despite this looked-for greeting, 

I fling it wildly, wildly, dear ; 
Look on me kindly, and on meeting 

Invoke a blessing on Leap Year. 

Perchance some wonder who are meant 

As actors in this little game ; 
But then, all know this missive's sent 

By me 

"On dit," 
And then supply the other name 
With thine, oh, thine, 
My Valentine ! 



37 



GREETING 

(Written for the Treble Clef) 
Should earth-born care and sorrow 

Within your hearts hold sway, 
Dismiss them till the morrow 

And hearken to our lay. 
With merry voice we greet you, 

So care must disappear, 
To joyful songs we treat you 

And bid you welcome here, 

And welcome every year ! 



3S 



A SPRING MADRIGAL 

(Written for the Treble Clef) 
When joyous sounds are ringing, 
The birds sweet songs are singing, 
And flow' rets are upspringing, 

Then summer-time is near. 
La-la-la, tra-la-la-la, 

The summer-time is near. 

When roses' hearts are flaming, 
The brooks their murmurs taming, 
All nature is proclaiming 

That summer-time is here. 
La-la-la, tra-la-la-la, 

Glad summer-time is here. 

39 



When butterflies are soaring 
'Mongst honeyed buds, adoring, 
The sun warm rays outpouring, 

Then summer-time is here. 
La-la-la, tra-la-la-la, 

Blest summer-time so dear. 



AN ENIGMA 

If U were I 

And I were U, 
I wonder what the world would do? 

For then, U C, 

We both would B 
An alphabetic mystery ! 



SONNET 

FAREWELL TO CONSTANTINOPLE 
I came a stranger to a foreign land, 

Where Ignorance and Superstition breed 
No recognition of a woman's need 
Of manly chivalry and helping hand 
Accorded her by him who's nobly planned. 
Alas ! 'tis true, by Turks too little heed 
Is given her, whom Custom has not freed 
From narrow laws we cannot understand. 

In contrast marked, in native land I found 
Those men, as gentlemen and scholars known, 



That type of mingled courtesy and force 
For which the newer continent's renowned, 

Such men as Culture loves to call her own, 
And proudly, as Americans, endorse ! 



43 



A PARTING 

When friends depart for distant lands, 
We watch them as they leave the shore, 

And gayly wave and kiss our hands 
And "au revoir !" we call once more. 

If stronger friendship though be felt, 
That called Platonic, name most vain ! 

We're not then apt in tears to melt, 

But, hands clasped, cry, " Auf wiedersehn !' 

And if some sentimental token 

Has caused two hearts to beat quite high, 



The sweet Italian words are spoken, 
" A rivederci !" with a sigh. 

But, sweeter still, true love is hid 
In th' accents gentle, soft and low, 

The pure Castilian of the Cid, 
"Adios, hasta luego !" 

So harsh by contrast seems our tongue ! 

To love it does not cater, 
And carelessly the words are sung, 

"Good-by, I'll see you later!" 



45 



